Guardian of Love
by Wombatman9000
Summary: There are five appointed Guardians who protect children and childhood. But childhood must come to an end. So who are those who end it? Why must it come to an end? And how do Cupid, Father Time, and Mother Nature fit into it?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It's one of those days where the sun is afraid to peek his head out from behind the clouds. The sky is dull and gray on this chilly day in early February. Flurries of snow fall from the clouds, tiny droplets of watery foam that dissolve at the lightest touch. One flurry, slightly larger than the others, lands atop my drawn arrow. It melts the moment it feels my warmth.  
Such a lovely day. Men and women and boys and girls all wander about, oblivious to my presence. Couples hold hands. Businessmen make calls. Mothers carry babies. Children try to build snowballs. And that's why I love this park. Because couples hold hands.  
I almost feel guilty. So many will feel the warm sting of my arrow. So many will feel the cold sting of its loss. And so few will never feel it at all. Truly there will be no winners.  
I turn ever so slightly as a boy catches my attention. Jamie. His brown locks hang down near his eye, but not quite far enough to blind him. He's got good looking features, the kind that will make him a beauty when he grows into them. And this handsome young man is my brand new target.  
I draw my arrow back farther. My bowstrings tighten and protest under the stress I inflict, but I still pull. Then, as the brown haired boy sees his good friend Jack, I let it fly. The Winter sprite fails to notice the bright red arrow until it's too late. It drives into Jamie's heart, drawing no blood and invisible to him. He does not feel the pain of a mortal wound, rather the warmth of his first crush. He's only twelve and he doesn't know it yet, but he's felt Love's chillingly warm embrace for the first time.  
Jack of course sees me. He stares right at me with those bright blue eyes and knows what I've done. Jack Frost, Guardian of Fun. Well he's about to have my kind of fun.  
I draw another arrow from my quiver and take aim. He just looks at me. And Jamie looks at him. And couples hold hands and businessmen make calls and mothers carry babies and children try to build snowballs. And he just stares. He knows I'm not going to fire another arrow. One was absolutely enough. He knows he can't catch me. After all, what's faster than Love?  
Certainly not a frozen pixie with a staff.  
He's not quite certain how to react. It's quite adorable really, the way his piercing blue eye stare into my ungodly red ones. Then something happens that I don't quite expect. The snow begins falls faster. The fountain in the center of the lake freezes. The melted snow on the sidewalks begins to freeze. I certainly didn't expect him to be so angry about this. All I did was make his biggest fan fall in love with him. Was that so wrong?  
Before he can attack me, I make haste out of the park, laughing all the way. My wings carry me as quickly as they can, far away from from Jack Frost and his icy wrath.  
With Love's light wings I fly above the clouds. Wind gusts against my face, but it feels like a gentle breeze. The blue of the sky contrasts beautifully against the white of the clouds. The sun has decided to show his face and warm me as I make my way south. The cold is lovely, but I must meet my employer, and he insists on meeting in Florida. Apparently he has a time share there.  
It's a short flight for an immortal such as myself. One might expect passengers on passing planes to be frightened when they see a winged man holding a bow flying beside them. But they do not notice me, because nobody can see where Love will come from next.  
The Florida heat is absurd. It seems like this state has chosen not to participate on Winter. Not that I have any problems with heat, Love is the warmest emotion, after all.  
I land in a decrepit lawn in front of a small, ramshackle house. The door nearly falls off as I enter, but when I do the inside transforms. Instead of the dusty old home a mere mortal would expect to see, I find a strange cross between an old folks home and a nursery. In the corner, Father Time is bent over a crib making faces at the baby inside. His beard stretches down to the floor and his flowered Hawaiian shirt barely covers his pot belly.  
When he turns toward me, he immediately sheds a thousand years. His skin becomes taut, removing any traces if wrinkles. His beard recedes into his skin, leaving a short black goatee one might describe as Machiavellian. His pot belly flattens and the shirt suddenly fits again.  
"You look ten thousand years younger," I remark.  
"And feel it," the younger Father Time says in a voice somehow warm and inviting yet cold and threatening at the same time. "I trust your mission was a success."  
"It was," I reply, stabbing an arrow into the coffee table next to me. He looks at the pink, heart shaped arrowhead stocked out of his knee-high table. "The boy is now insatiably in love with Jack. I've also taken the liberty of ensuring that North reveals his true feelings about Toothiana. Oddly enough, Bunnymund will be doing the same thing." A cruel smile snakes its way across my face. I love my job.  
"And Sandy? Is he out of the picture?" Father Time asks.  
"I was unable to find him," I reply, a frown replacing my smile.  
"No matter," he remarks as he begins pacing back and forth. "As the Guardians fall into disarray in the coming months, Sandy will not be our greatest threat."  
"What do you mean?" I ask, anticipating the worst.  
"She's coming," he says ominously. "She's coming for my child. And she can't have him."  
They both looks over to the crib, which has changed into a beanbag chair. Replacing the baby is a teenage boy. His black hair is a tousled mess with a tuff of grey in the front. He's sitting in the chair, playing some handheld game.  
"Don't worry," the boy responds, not looking up from his game. "I know exactly how we can deal with her."  
"Deal with her?" I ask, growing angry. I'm sure my face is growing red at this point. "Just how do you intend to deal with her?"  
"You'll see," the boy replies calmly. "I know how to deal with my mother. Better than anyone."  
"In the meantime," Time replies, interrupting his son. "I need you to deliver a message to North. Before Christmas."  
"What's the message?" I ask, trying to figure out when Christmas is. I would probably know, but Love can happen anytime, the day doesn't matter.  
Time pulls a seal envelope out of his shirt pocket and hands it to me. As I take it, the fabric of the room twists. Suddenly the floor is replaced by a massive sundial. The beanbag chair turns into a giant hour glass, but the boy doesn't seem to mind the change in elevation. And finally, the wall to my left transforms into a calendar. "Christmas is in two days," Father Time confirms.  
"Got it," I remark. Why doesn't my house do this? "And what's in the letter?"  
He replied with a smile that could warm a heart and freeze a brain, "The gift of Time."  
I don't ask for further explanation. It's dangerous to trifle with a Father Time and the last thing I need is a wrinkles face. As I turn to leave, the room begins changing again. I'm out the door before I can see what it turns into. As soon as the door closes behind me, I'm back in the Florida heat, standing outside a ramshackle old house.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I decide that the letter to North can wait until tomorrow and head east, to my house. It's a quick flight over the Atlantic and suddenly I'm in Paris. I have a other homes in places like Vegas and Verona, but Paris is my favorite by far. Mostly because of the irony. Love never surrenders and the French always surrender.  
I fly across they city, firing arrows at random Frenchmen that I pass. Some fall for women, others fall for restaurants. It all depends on what they're looking at. And the best part? I never miss. Each arrow I fire lands directly in my target's heart, most likely ruining their lives. By the time I reach my little apartment, I've ruined at least forty-six lives. My little apartment rests invisibly on top of the Eiffel Tower, an excellent spot from which to snipe young lovers.  
I float through the velvet curtains, imported from Russia (they make the best red stuff) and into my home. All the rooms are divided by curtains. Even the door in and out of the apartment is a curtain. I can just open all the curtains and have an suddenly open-floor plan. Because Love knows no boundaries and has a thing for interior design.  
I walk into the back area (it isn't really a room, per se) and put down my bow. My pink recurve bow rests next to a variety of other bows. Compounds, recurve, straight, and even one designed for hand-to-hand combat, all rest against one wall.  
After removing my toga (because togas are hot) and my quiver, I lie down in a heart shaped bed. Today's involved a lot of flying and a lot of arrows, so I'm gonna take a break and watch something on TV. Options for my mind-numbing enjoyment are: Arrow, the Avengers, a variety of Robin Hood movies, and the Walking Dead. I only watch things with archery and relationships.  
Eventually I pass out to the sounds of arrows and shipping. And of course, I have a dream. Thankfully, Sandy has no power over the dreams of immortals who don't want his interference. Unfortunately, we don't have normal dreams.  
I see her in my sleep. Her skin is a dark chocolate color and her dark hair is pulled into a thick braid in the back. What she's wearing can best be described as tribal. Ancient tribal. Something you'd see the first men and women wearing. Her eyes are deep and sad, as ancient as the wisdom in them. As old as the earth itself.  
"I have seen what you've done, Love," she began, her voice soothing and ominous. "I've seen all that you've done."  
The formless dream suddenly takes shape. I'm suddenly in forest. But I'm not Cupid. I'm Agape, the finest archer in the Athenian army. But now I'm on leave in Macedon. For the moment, the ruins of Alexander's empire is an ally to Athens, but that wouldn't matter when Rome returns.  
Rome had been playing with us for awhile, now its planning the endgame. But that wouldn't be possible until Summer, so in the meantime I hunted the Macedonian Royal Boar with my wife Penelope. A lot of men would tell her she shouldn't be hunting a legendary hog with her husband. A lot of men would wind up with an arrow in their heads.  
We'd only been there a month, and now we think we're on the hog's trail. We're traveling with a little dog to help us find it. We named him Rufius for the sound he makes.  
The dream twists again, and I find myself watching as the Royal Boar charges as Penelope. Before I can wonder how it snuck up on us, I find myself charging at it. It wasn't a thought. I just did it. I can't have my Penelope.  
Arrows fly into its side, drawing obscene amounts of blood. But it barely notices. Penelope draws her sword, a roman gladius, but she's too late. The boar is upon her, gashing with its tusks. She's gone.  
I pull my sword over my head and swing. I miss, blinded with tears and hate. The beast turns and sets its sights on me. As it impales me with its horns, I thrust once more. This time my blade hits its mark. The boar is dead, and I'm fading fast. I find myself lying on the forest ground. The grass is matted with fresh blood. I can do nothing but stare at the sky.  
The sun faintly glows behind the canopy. Eventually the sky and trees merge into one. My sight is fading me. I'm gone  
Then I'm not. I'm looking at the sky again. But there's a man in the way. One day he'd be called Father Time. He changed me. I'm not Agape anymore. I'm Cupid.  
And once again I'm looking into a pair of brown eyes. The memory fades. "You died for Love, so Time rewarded you with divinity. Or at least, what you interpreted as divinity. I saw this, just as I've seen everything on this Earth."  
"What do you want?" I demand, wanting no more of these games.  
But my demand is met with anger. The chocolate eyes turn to magma and her hair becomes a tornado. "My child, you imbecile!" The ground begins to shake and lightning cracks behind her. "I want... I want my child." Her eyes turn milky blue. The violence around her ends and is replaced by a steady stream of rain.  
"You know you can't get him from me," I reply. "I can't help you."  
"No," she says, her voice turning to ice as the rainstorms turns to a blizzard. "You're the only one who can. When the New Year begins, I will have my child. In return, you will have your Penelope."  
Behind her, in the middle of the snowstorm, a flower blossoms. It's tiny, yet I can see it clearly. The flower sprouts from the bottomless ground, and suddenly Penelope appears from its center.  
"Penelope!" I shout as the flower collapses into the ground. The woman was gone, but I knew her ultimatum. She wants her child. And Father Time has him. The problem? How do I steal something from Time?  
Before I can ponder this further, I find myself awake in my bed. Robin Hood is still playing on my TV. The clock says 6:17.  
But I know what I have to do. I have to get Penelope back. And to do that, I have to work for Mother Nature.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Cupid," North began in his thick Russian accent as I land in front of his workshop. He's been waiting for me, I can tell. "What on earth do you want?"  
"I'm here to deliver a message," I reply, wanting to get this over with. The snow is barely falling and the ice is solid, but I truly despise the North Pole. It's too cold. Love is supposed to be warm.  
He takes the letter and gives me a dirty look. "Little baby Cupid, delivering messages for Father Time." He's the one who started the myth that I'm a baby. Which makes sense I suppose. Everyone loves babies. I still hate it.  
"How's Toothiana?" I ask. I'm not letting him insult me without getting a few jabs in myself. I understand why he hates me. He serves to make childhood last, whereas my actions end childhood. After all, once a kid falls in love for the first time their childhood is basically over.  
He sighs, clearly annoyed with my presence as much as he's annoyed with the question. "She's with Bunnymund."  
"Oh," I reply, treading carefully.  
"I have no doubt that's your doing," North says, returning to his death-stare. "Now if you'll excuse me, the workshop is behind schedule and Christmas is tomorrow."  
As he turns around he opens the letter. A flash of light appears from the envelope, and suddenly he's moving in slow motion. The entire workshop is. So slowly that the snowfall is almost at a standstill.  
Now there's no chance they'll be able to finish making toys by tomorrow. And even if they do, Santa won't be able to make it around the world if he's moving in slow motion. I take to the skies before he can demand answers. As I fly through the frozen sky, I can hear him cursing in slow Russian.  
It's only a few minutes before I'm back in Florida, in front of Father Time's house. I push through the door and pretend not to be surprised to see clocks and hourglasses floating in the air. Father Time is sitting across the room staring a tiny sundial duct taped to his wrist, his beard nearly hitting the floor.  
Replacing the beanbag is a miniature medieval castle. A man a tuff of grey among a mane of black hair emerges from the castle, fully sized, in chain mail. I haven't the faintest idea how the dimensions of the castle work, but somehow he shrank to fit inside then grew to normal size without losing a beat. It takes me a moment to realize that he's the same boy I saw on the beanbag. The baby from the crib.  
"Father," the man says in a voice far deeper than his adolescent counterpart's. "Your ally has returned." Whatever had happened to the child had clearly made him much more militant. How was he supposed to deliver this guy to Mother Earth?  
"Ah, yes, Cupid. You delivered the letter, I trust?" Father Time asked, trying to keep an eye on his sundial-watch.  
"Yes. Next time, let me know when you're going to slow down time. I could've been stuck there."  
"But what is quicker than Love?" he remarks, laughing at his own joke. "I knew you wouldn't be hurt. Now, are the Guardians in disarray?"  
"Yes," I confirm. "Bunnymund is vying against North of the attention of Toothiana, and Frost is dealing with an unrequited love. Christmas will fail and childhood will collapse."  
"Excellent!" Father Time says, clasping his hands. I've never known why he seeks to end childhood. I mean, I end the time of childhood. I ensure children grow up. It's the natural order of things. But this guy is trying to destroy the very concept of childhood. It makes no sense to me. What's his motivation? Could he just be a senile old man? No, someone like him has a plan to save the world. In some grand Old Testament kind of way.  
"Where's my payment?" I ask.  
"Payment?" he repeats, either questioning me or the existence of the word.  
"Yes, payment," I reply, becoming impatient. "We had an agreement. I remove the Guardians as an obstacle, you fix my heart." I pull my toga down and show my chest, revealing severe burn marks above my heart. It's where the boar hit me. For the last thousand or so years, the area has burned over from my longing for Penelope. I guess Love takes a bit of a beating when he's lost his love. Father Time had promised that he would heal it after my work was done.  
"Time heals all wounds," he mused. "But you have left one Guardian unaccounted for. The Sandman."  
"I told you, I have no idea where he is. He's always managed to slip away."  
"You may not know where he is. But a certain Winter sprite does," he says as the clocks turn into televisions. They all show a cold front moving in, rapidly approaching Florida. "And he's on his way."  
Not a minute later, ice began to form on the windows. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go ask some questions. I'll be back later."  
I step outside into the cold. The sun is covered in a layer of clouds and the Florida Palm trees are covered in snow. There shouldn't be snow this far south, but Frost doesn't care.  
He comes crashing down like a meteor. But instead of fire and stone, it's ice and flesh. He stands in the impact crater he made and stares at me. I don't think I've ever seen anyone this angry.  
"Good to see you, Jack," I say, extending a hand for him to shake.  
He spits an icicle. "You're going down," he says. And then he moves to attack.  
But before he can strike, I'm gone. Invisible to him and silent as a ghost.  
"Where are you?" he demands. I fire an arrow just passed his ear. It takes a piece of his hair with it. I don't want to hit him, just scare him.  
I can't help but laugh. "Where Love always is," I reply as I fire an arrow next to his feet. This wasn't one of those heart-shaped arrows for falling in love. No, this was the real deal. Steel tipped. Meant to kill. "Where you least expect it." I knock him from behind, making my point.  
"Quite playing games and face me!" he shouts.  
"A game?" I demand. "Love is not a game. Love is hard work. It takes time and energy and devotion. Something most humans never seem to grasp. Something that you may never understand."  
"What you do is sick. You're evil!" he shouts. He keeps turning to face me but he doesn't know where I am.  
"I'm necessary evil," I remark. When he turns away from me again I strike him in the head with my bow. "Jack Frost, Guardian of Fun. Do you know that Fun becomes once someone falls in Love? It's not as innocent as throwing snowballs."  
"Where are you!" he screams. His normally pale face turns bright red in anger.  
"Love is in the air," I say as I materialize in front of him. Before he can react I drive an arrow into his shoulder and push him to the ground. Grabbing the arrow and pushing him into the snow, I begin the interview. "Now, where is the Sandman?"  
"Why would I ever tell you?" Frost asks through labored breathing. His eyes are tearing up from the pain. Blood spills onto the snow, painting it bright red.  
"Because you have another shoulder," I reply as I drive the arrow in farther. The sounds of sinew and muscle tearing is sickly, but their result is worth it.  
The Sandman is in the Sahara.


End file.
